


Thirteen on the Calais Coach

by Cicerothewriter



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly non-graphic violence, Murder, Murder Mystery, Romance, Slash, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicerothewriter/pseuds/Cicerothewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of the passengers is murdered, Bilbo must find out who killed him.  Since Bilbo is a celebrated detective, this should be easy, but complications abound when he develops kinship with his fellow passengers, hatred for the murdered man, and amorous feelings for one passenger in particular, Thorin Oakenshield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Passenger

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: This partially comes from the fact that I was thinking about the number thirteen and its importance in _The Hobbit_. I don't want to spoil anything, so I won't say more about this number. Needless to say, if you have read the original book, _Murder on the Orient Express_ , then you know the basic plot of this story. I hope I've changed and added enough to make it interesting.  
> Note 2: Making up the last names was tough, but my friends on Tumblr gave a hand.  
> Note 3: Beta-read by the fabulous Soul_Bonnie. Thank you, my dear!

The politeness that had been ingrained in Bilbo Baggin’s nature and fortified by his parents kept him from throwing his hands up in despair and boarding the train just to get away from the nervous young soldier who had been assigned to escort him and who had run out of things to say. Bilbo loved to talk about the weather as much as the next Englishman, but really, an hour was stretching even his courteous ability. Perhaps he might not have noticed the two people engaged in a clandestine conversation if he had not been bored; then again, Bilbo was a curious fellow. This quality made him one of the foremost detectives of his generation.

They were certainly an incongruent couple: the taller of the two was the tallest and broadest man Bilbo had ever seen, and he was scandalized to note the hint of tattoos where his sleeve rode up when he reached over. This tall man was standing protectively over a shorter, ginger young man with a bookish air and wearing a homemade sweater. Bilbo looked away when he saw the taller one gently cup the shorter man’s cheek in his large hand, a lonely ache in his heart, but his ears perked when he heard the man whisper, “After this is all over, we can start anew.”

“Yes,” whispered the other.

Bilbo waved away the young soldier, who sighed with relief, gave a low bow, and then left him – grateful that he would no longer have to speak about the weather. Bilbo noted that the two (lovers, no doubt) had split up to different parts of the train. An illicit love affair? He sat back against his seat, closed his eyes, and told himself not to stick his nose into other’s business. The romantic side of him, his Took side, was thrilled at the sentiment and wondered what sort of hurdles they had to overcome to be together.

 

Bilbo entered his hotel, sighing with relief at the coolness which greeted him. As he walked to the receptionist, he noted the occupants of the plush lobby. The most interesting was a man with flame-colored hair, almost as if fire grew from his scalp and magic twisted into hair.

This man turned towards him, and Bilbo shivered at the chill. He had cold, dark eyes set up upon high cheekbones; his face spoke of cruelty and arrogance. He could have been considered handsome by some, if one did not notice the sneer of his lips or the blackness of his gaze.

Bilbo hurried past him, his well-honed sense of danger telling him to run away. Bilbo liked to pretend that his personality more than made up for his lack of height, but in reality he had the instincts of a small prey. These instincts had served him well over the course of his career, and he knew better than to ignore them.

He gave the receptionist his name, and waited patiently. His intent was to stay in Constantinople for a few days before moving on down the coast, eventually making his way to Egypt and the Nile. If only he had someone to share in his grand adventure…

“Bilbo Baggins,” he heard after the receptionist had given him his key. He turned, dread and joy filling his heart in equal measure.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo cried, reaching out to shake his hand. Gandalf looked as he had always done: grey suit and wide-brimmed straw hat, short grey hair and beard. In his hand he carried a wooden walking stick. Gandalf owned several walking sticks, and this one had carved on its surface a dragon which breathed fire, the flames of which created the handle. Bilbo shuttered inwardly, although why he was uncertain. “It’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“A holiday, my dear boy, a holiday.” Gandalf gave him a skeptical look, and said, “What about yourself?”

“Likewise, old thing. No work here. I just finished a case given to me by a friend in the government. Murder. A nasty business. Makes one late for dinner!”

“Of course,” Gandalf said, patting him on the shoulder. “And you have no future plans?”

“I thought I might travel a bit. I’ve never been to this part of the world, and so I decided to satisfy my Took blood with a nice, long ramble.”

Gandalf hummed, and Bilbo chose to ignore the disbelief in his tone. Gandalf knew he was telling the truth; he just liked to be infuriating. Before he could excuse himself, the receptionist called his name, and then handed to him a telegraph.

“Blast it,” Bilbo cried. “Hamfast wants me to return as soon as possible. The Johnson murder trial has been moved ahead.”

“So you do have a case,” Gandalf said happily. “I was right.”

“It would seem so,” Bilbo replied in a disgruntled manner. Gandalf merely smiled, and patted him on the shoulder.

“You’ll need a train,” Gandalf said. “I shall arrange passage for you on my train. My friend, Elrond, is the owner of the company, and he happens to be riding to Paris this very evening. From there you can make your way to London.”

Bilbo frowned, and said, “But you’re on holiday.”

“Yes, and I shall simply go on holiday in your direction.”

 

Bilbo was standing in the cold evening, waiting to board. “Why is the desert so cold?” he whined to himself. He glanced around, curious about his fellow passengers. He saw an older man with a long, white beard and pleasant demeanor. He was surprised to see the bookish lad from earlier, and this time he was accompanied by two men whom Bilbo identified quickly as his brothers or – at the very least – close relatives. The elder was powerfully built, and had a suspicious air; the younger (the middle child, Bilbo asked himself) had a thick mane of ginger hair a darker shade than the youngest one. Bilbo watched in amusement as he swiftly picked the pocket of the man with whom he had been flirting.

He was not surprised to see the burly, tattooed lover, and he wondered if the brothers knew about him. A blond young man with a short beard was directing a porter with loads of luggage. A very – ahem – round man was squeezing himself onto the train. Two other gentlemen – obviously brothers; one clearly a doctor and the other reeking of money – boarded. He heard cheerful laughter, and turned to see another young man – dark and attractive in a puppyish sort of way – carrying a day bag. A sun amid the stormy skies, Bilbo thought to himself wistfully. The young man turned to speak to someone behind him, and stepped aside, allowing a clear view of his companion.

“Stormy skies, indeed,” Bilbo said to himself, his lips parting slightly as he felt something warm within him.

Yes, the sort of stormy skies under which you might sit next to a roaring fire, covered by a soft duvet, sharing a glass of wine with the handsome man at your side…

Bilbo shook his head, and busied himself with looking at the train schedule in his slightly sweaty hand. He could not help glancing at the other man, his short black hair with highlights of grey, his close-cropped beard, his eyes which were a startling blue, almost too blue for such a dark man.

He and his companion boarded the same train car into which Bilbo would soon be boarding. "Perhaps his son?" Bilbo thought. "Yes, probably his son. It would be my luck if this man were married." If only that dratted Gandalf would hurry up, he could find out for himself.

Bilbo finally decided to board the train when he was nearly run over by a man in a straw hat and awful check jacket. Following him was another with wild eyes and equally wild hair, dressed in the uniform of an officer of the British Army.

"Sorry there, lad," the first one said, brushing him off. Bilbo nearly jumped at the improper way he was being handled and stepped aside. The other said something, his swift Gaelic incomprehensible in comparison to the first's more pleasing lilt.

"Quite all right," Bilbo replied, stepping aside. He felt flustered, being unused to such man-handling by an admittedly attractive man.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Bofur, and this is my cousin, Bifur." Bofur gestured with an elegant hand as he said their names.

"Bilbo Baggins," he replied, shaking Bofur's and then Bifur's hand.

"You waiting for someone?" Bofur asked, glancing around.

"Yes, I'm waiting for my friend so that we can board this train."

"This train? You mean this carriage?" Bofur asked. Bilbo was confused by the tone of his voice, almost a panic.

"Yes, the Calais Coach. Is there a reason why I should not?"

"No, none at all. I think you'll be out of luck, seeing as how it is full."

"Yes, my friend said as much, but there's always a way. I'm needed urgently in London."

"Well," Bofur said, the friendly tone returning to his voice. "Then we'll be together for several days." Bilbo blushed at the suggestion in his expression. Bifur rolled his eyes, and smacked Bofur in the back of the head.

"See you later, Mr. Baggins," Bofur said, waggling his eyebrows at him. Despite his shock, he laughed at Bofur's outrageous manner.

Bifur sighed, and shoved his brother up onto the train.

Gandalf materialized behind him, and said, "We're in luck!"

Bilbo looked up at him, and said, "Yes?"

"There is an extra room, a single. Someone had hired it, but I believe that they will not show."

"Why not?"

"It was hired by a Mr. John Smith."

Bilbo nodded, and said, "Ignoring the idea that this could in fact be a real person, why would someone hire a cabin for a non-existent person?"

"Don't question your good fortune, Bilbo. Just board the train."

Bilbo grumbled, but did as Gandalf said. The inside of the train was dim, and Bilbo immediately began to sweat. The heat had been turned on for the comfort of the passengers, but he was still dressed for the cold. He struggled with his bag, ignoring the questioning looks that he received from a few of the passengers.

The young blond gentleman stepped out of the cabin before his, and he caught a glimpse of the flame-haired man from the hotel. He grimaced, but nodded politely at the blond.

Gandalf followed him into his cabin, and shut the door behind him. "Some interesting fellow passengers you have, my dear Bilbo."

"Indeed," Bilbo said, relieved to see his other luggage had made it from the hotel to his cabin. "They seem nervous."

"The political situation has deteriorated in this area," Gandalf said, leaning against the door. "I should think that many have decided to leave before they have no choice but to stay."

"The smart ones would," Bilbo said. He was not convinced that Gandalf's suggestion was correct, but he had no counter argument.

"I shall be staying in the third carriage," Gandalf said. "My friend, Elrond, has been gracious enough to allow me to share with him until rooms open up at our next stop."

Bilbo nodded, and then steadied himself with a well-timed hand as the train jerked awake beneath his feet. They were finally on their way.

 

After putting his things away and tutting to himself at the creases in several of his shirts, Bilbo went into the dining car. He was feeling a bit peckish – it was well past his usual tea time – and so he felt that an early dinner was in order. Gandalf was already seated at a table in the far corner, and he waved Bilbo over. Across the table from him was an elegant man with long, brown hair, who stood as Bilbo approached.

"Bilbo, this is my friend, Elrond. Elrond, this is Bilbo Baggins. You may have heard of him?"

"I have," Elrond replied, nodding at Bilbo. "I have heard the details of your investigations from Gandalf. He holds you in high regard."

Bilbo nodded back, blushing slightly. "Thank you, sir. I hope I do not have cause to use my talents on this trip."

"Good heavens, no," Elrond replied, laughing pleasantly. "I shall have to marvel via second-hand information."

They sat down, Bilbo next to Gandalf so that he could see the passengers. His natural nosiness had yet to be sated, and he found himself wondering about their lives and why they were in Istanbul.

After the waiter had taken their order, Elrond gave Bilbo a knowing look and said, "I suppose you are wondering about your fellow passengers."

"I must admit that I am a bit curious," Bilbo said, his fingers playing with the stem of his wine glass.

"I can enlighten you as to their names and what facts I know." Elrond smiled again, and said, "Perhaps you can tell me more about them than I know myself with your observations."

Bilbo laughed, and said, "I shall try my best."

Without turning around, because that would have looked suspicious, Elrond began to detail the facts of the occupants of the dining carriage. Bilbo was impressed by Elrond's photographic memory.

"To your right," Elrond said, "are Balin and Dwalin Fundin. Balin is a lawyer, and Dwalin deals in antiques – mainly weapons and military armament."

"They are brothers?" Bilbo asked, able to see the family resemblance now that he knew. Dwalin was tall and fierce, whilst Balin was shorter and friendlier, almost grandfatherish in his demeanor.

"Yes," Gandalf replied.

"And the tattoos?" Bilbo asked, scandalized but intrigued.

"You noticed them?" Elrond said, surprised.

"Just that they were present."

"I presume that he received them when he was in the army, India or some such place," Elrond replied. "I did not ask, but I overheard him talking to one of the other passengers about his experiences in New Delhi."

At Bilbo's nod of understanding, Elrond continued, "Oin and Gloin Groinson are at the next table, also brothers, and both are in possession of a considerable wealth. Oin is a doctor and dabbles as an apothecary now and then. I believe that is where he made his money. Gloin is a banker and investor, well-known for his business acumen."

"Well-known?" Bilbo asked.

"Well-known in that Gandalf recommended his services to me," Elrond replied.

Gandalf nodded, and said, "I have met Gloin a time or two. I would recommend his level head and sense of fairness to anyone."

Bilbo said, "You seem to know everyone, Gandalf." Bilbo felt some suspicion, as if Gandalf had brought him here for some plan of his own, but he knew he was being ridiculous. How could Gandalf have known that he would be in Istanbul and at a hotel where he had not even made reservations? No, this was simply a coincidence, and Bilbo was being ridiculous.

Gandalf merely smiled, and looked to Elrond. Elrond continued, "The three in the corner are Dori, Nori, and Ori Bergdís. Dori is a wine merchant, and Ori is his assistant."

"And Nori?" Bilbo asked after a long pause.

"You know, I am not sure," Gandalf said.

"I watched him pick a man's pocket while we were at the station," Bilbo said.

Gandalf laughed, and said, "Yes, you had better watch your wallet when you are within arm's length of Nori."

Elrond shook his head, but Bilbo could see that Nori's light fingers did not bother him. Instead, Elrond added, "They are brothers as well."

"Oh yes?" Bilbo replied. "I thought that they were at least related."

Elrond looked at him in all seriousness, and then said, "They have their mother's last name."

"Ah," Bilbo said, blushing slightly. "So they were affected by scandal," he thought to himself. "Poor lads – especially the young one." It would also be one explanation for the over-protectiveness he saw in the older brothers.

"At the far corner behind me are Bofur and Bombur Skirfur, and their cousin Bifur," Elrond said. "Bofur is a salesman, Bombur a cook, and Bifur – as you can see – is an officer in the British Army."

Bilbo nodded, and said, "I have met Bofur and Bifur briefly before the train left. Bofur is, er, quite friendly."

Gandalf laughed, and said, "He seems the sort who is that way with everyone."

Bilbo frowned, feeling a bit slighted by Gandalf's attitude. Gandalf was still snorting around his pipe when Bilbo said, "Bifur has such a strong accent. I could barely understand him."

Elrond replied, "He took a blow to the head, a blow which should have killed him, but fortunately did not." At Bilbo's curious look, Elrond added, "Bombur was telling me about the incident."

"How long ago did it happen?" Bilbo asked.

"About twenty years ago, I think," Elrond replied. "He recovered his considerable intelligence, his wits, his memories, but not his tongue. He speaks more fluidly in Gaelic than he does in English, and so that is the language with which he chooses to speak."

Bilbo was looking at Bifur, but then his eyes caught the icy blue gaze of the man who reminded him of stormy skies. He looked away, fidgeting with his napkin.

The waiter served them their dinner, and as they ate, Elrond continued with the rest of the passengers. "Thorin Oakenshield is a businessman. His is old money, very old, and he has some land as well. His nephew, Kili, is supposed to be his secretary, but I'm almost certain that Kili does very little actual work."

"Why not?" Bilbo asked, relieved that Kili was not in fact Thorin's son.

"Too young," Elrond replied. "He still has schooling left."

"Perhaps Thorin is trying to train him as a replacement."

"That is possible," Elrond replied, "but as Thorin has an older nephew, I do not think it likely."

"Where is the older nephew?" Bilbo asked.

"I don't know," Elrond replied. "Kili seemed very upset that his brother was not here."

"And Thorin has no sons of his own?"

"No," Gandalf replied. "He is not married, and he professes to have little time for the romantic arts."

"You know him as well, Gandalf?" Bilbo said with a sigh.

"I have met him a few times," Gandalf replied.

"You are a meddler," Bilbo replied sharply.

Gandalf gave him a wounded look. Elrond merely shook his head, and said, "He's right, Gandalf." Elrond looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he sat back and ate.

The door to the dining cart opened, and the remaining two passengers entered. Bilbo felt his hackles raise when he saw the flame-haired gentleman from the hotel enter, followed by the blond. "Smaug," Gandalf murmured.

Bilbo looked at Gandalf and then at Elrond, whose expression for the first time held something other than pleasantness. "Smaug deals in antiques," Elrond said.

"Legally acquired antiques?" Bilbo asked, already knowing the answer.

"When the mood strikes him," Elrond replied.

They watched Smaug and his assistant sit and order. Smaug was callous and cold to the waiter, but his assistant made up for it with charms aplenty.

"His assistant is Felix Smith," Elrond said. After a moment he shrugged his shoulder, and added, "I know almost nothing about him. He is very good at talking without saying anything."

Felix looked like a good-natured young man, about twenty-eight years old, short blond hair and beard. Bilbo thought that he seemed like someone who would be an excellent pub-mate; despite his intention of trying to figure out the unknown young man, his eyes drifted back to Thorin.

Bilbo noticed pretty quickly that the carriage became quieter after Smaug's arrival, and there were a few hostile glances. Bilbo was both intrigued and relieved that he was not the only one to react so to Smaug, and he was not sure how Felix could stand being in the man's presence.

Soon the passengers drifted away to their cabins, and the only ones left in the carriage were Bilbo, Smaug and Felix, and Thorin and Kili. Thorin and Kili were gathering their things to leave, and Bilbo felt that he should do the same. Felix was just taking up some papers that he and Smaug had been discussing, and looked ready to leave. Bilbo did not wish to risk being left alone with Smaug.

He felt his heart pound harder when he saw Smaug stand and turn toward him. He was fascinated by the economic movements of Smaug's limbs, almost beautiful and certainly hypnotic, like a snake stalking his prey.

"Mr. Baggins," Smaug said, holding out his hand.

Despite his instinctive fear, Bilbo had been raised to be polite. He shook his hand, and said, "Mr. Smaug."

"You have heard of me?" Smaug said. He glanced back at Felix, who was giving them a questioning look. Thorin was also looking at them as he slowly made his way to the exit.

"From the owner of this train, Mr. Elrond," Bilbo replied, trying as unobtrusively as possible to see if he could slip past Smaug without touching him.

Smaug seemed to preen at his words, and said, "I wish to speak with you in private, Mr. Baggins."

"Of course," Bilbo replied. Felix had not moved, and Bilbo gave him a slight smile, trying to say that he would be okay.

Felix nodded ever so slightly at him, and then followed Thorin and Kili out of the carriage.

"Would you care to have a seat?" Bilbo said, motioning Smaug to sit across from him. Smaug did so, resting his cane next to him on the chair in which Elrond had previously sat.

"I am in need of your professional services," Smaug said. At Bilbo's confused look, Smaug said, "Someone is trying to kill me, and I believe that they have followed me onto this train."

"Who is trying to kill you?" Bilbo asked. Normally he tried to be sympathetic to a potential client, but he could not dredge up that feeling for Smaug.

"I don't know exactly," Smaug replied.

"How do you know someone is trying to kill you?"

"I have been receiving letters that threaten my life," Smaug replied. "Whoever wants to kill me has been following me because the letters find me no matter where I am."

"Why do they want to kill you?" Bilbo asked, deciding that he had no reason to coddle the man before him.

"That is my business," Smaug replied, the sneer returning to his face, and Bilbo could almost see sharp teeth and fire. "I don't want you to solve a mystery. I want you to find out who is trying to kill me."

"I do not intend on doing either," Bilbo said, his own natural arrogance rising. How dare this man barge up to him and demand his help! Bilbo was a Baggins of Bag End, from a long line of Bagginses and Tooks, and he owed help to no one. "I am returning to London for the conclusion of a very important case, Mr. Smaug. I am not accepting any new ones at the moment."

Smaug's eyes darkened, and his long fingers tightened into fists adorned with more rings than should be allowed in polite society. Bilbo was both appalled and fascinated. "I will pay you a lot of money."

"I have no need of money," Bilbo replied, waving his hand in a haughty dismissal of his wealth.

"I am normally able to defend myself, Mr. Baggins," Smaug said, reaching into his jacket and displaying a small revolver covered with tiny jewels. "But I cannot defend myself from someone I cannot see."

"Then you had better keep looking," Bilbo replied, standing quickly.

Smaug stood, and before he knew it Smaug had him by the upper arm. Smaug was already tall, but his slenderness made him seem almost monstrous, and when he hovered over Bilbo, Bilbo felt a terrible fear. Whatever he was about to say was lost when someone coughed.

Kili was looking at them, bent over slightly as if he had been reaching down under the table for something. "Everything okay?" he asked, smiling. Bilbo noticed that despite the smile, Kili's eyes were keen as they assessed the situation. Bilbo suspected that Elrond had underestimated Kili's intelligence.

"Yes, thank you," Bilbo replied, pulling his arm from Smaug's grasp. "I was just leaving."

"Me, too!" Kili replied, his pleased smile soothing Bilbo's nerves. "I'll walk with you, Mr. Boggins."

"Baggins," Bilbo replied, gratefully following Kili who had an arm raised as if to guide Bilbo to the only exit. "Who told you my name?"

"I heard Mr. Gandalf say it," Kili replied.

Bilbo's last look at Smaug was one he would always remember. Smaug's savage expression made his heart race with fear. Kili's hand rested lightly on his arm, guiding him to the sleeping carriage.

"Did he hurt you, Mr. Boggins?" Kili asked.

Bilbo took a deep breath, and said, "No, he didn't." At Kili's skeptical look, Bilbo said defensively, "He asked for my help, and then declined to accept my refusal."

"What did he want your help with?" Kili asked.

"That is my business, I'm afraid," Bilbo said. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Oakenshield."

Kili looked startled for a moment, and then he grinned, and said, "Call me Kili."

"Then call me Bilbo, please," Bilbo replied.

Kili laughed, and shook his hand with cheerful enthusiasm. Bilbo wondered if Kili did everything with this same eagerness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this has taken me a year to continue. I promise that it will not take me another year to add Chapter 3. I hope to have this done by the end of August. Thank you so much for your patience!

During their first day on the train, the family members stayed close to each other and interacted very little with the other groups. All sought to avoid Smaug and by extension his assistant; Bilbo felt sorry for the young man. Smaug seethed in his cabin or at his table in the dining cart, but thankfully he did not confront Bilbo again.

The only passenger who talked to Bilbo was Kili, who appeared to take their ill-timed introduction as an invitation to chat. Bilbo learned all about Kili's life at university and the shenanigans into which he got himself and which were never his fault; Kili's brother, who came up with the best schemes and was smart, brave, and handsome; and Kili's uncle.

"Uncle Thorin can be very severe," Kili said, slurping his tea. Bilbo winced, and perhaps overcompensated for Kili's manners by emphasizing his own with precise movements.

"What does your uncle do?"

"He does… business things," Kili said, shrugging as he gave up trying to describe his uncle's occupation. "I'm his secretary."

Bilbo could not help the expression of alarm on his face. "You're his secretary, and you don't know what he does?"

Kili worried at his lower lip. "Is that odd?" he asked, and Bilbo could sense the sincerity of his question.

"Well, yes, to be honest. What do you do for him?"

"Filing, typing," Kili said, giving up on his tea for the moment to ponder the question. "Carry things for him. Make phone calls. I'm only his temporary secretary."

Kili stopped, and a look of panic came over his face.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

"I, er," Kili said, scratching the back of his neck.

Bilbo smiled comfortingly at Kili, and said, "Don't worry about saying too much to me. I won't tell anyone. Whom could I tell?"

Kili sighed in relief. "I don't want to be his secretary. I can hardly wait until I return to university."

"What are you studying?"

"Archery," Kili said, his dark eyes shining with excitement. "And accounting," he added as an afterthought.

"Sounds interesting," Bilbo replied, encouraging Kili to continue talking. Bilbo learned long ago that people loved to talk to him (it was something about his face), and in his line of work this characteristic came in handy. A detective who could get people to talk just by being in the room was a successful detective.

"What do you do, Bilbo?" Kili asked, after he had described the joys of collegiate archery.

"Oh, this and that," Bilbo replied. "Right now I'm traveling."

"Are you a travel writer?" Kili asked.

"No, not really. I just like traveling."

Bilbo turned when he heard a deep voice say, "Kili, why are you-?" Bilbo's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Kili's uncle. Bilbo appreciated a person who dressed neatly and with style; Bilbo also appreciated a man who was taller and broader than him. Kili had inherited his uncle's dark hair and countenance, but where it looked sweet and endearing on Kili, Thorin looked mysterious and, yes, severe.

Bilbo frowned, interrupting his musing, when he saw the derisive look on Thorin's face. "Who is this?" Thorin asked.

"Uncle," Kili said, standing up. "This is Bilbo Boggins. Bilbo, this is my uncle, Thorin Oakenshield."

"Baggins actually," Bilbo said as he stood. He reached forward to shake Thorin's hand, and felt light-headed as Thorin's strong, large hand enveloped his; however, he was able to keep his shake firm and professional.

"Mr. Baggins," Thorin said, acknowledging the correction. He glanced at Kili, and said, "I didn't realize you had already started making friends."

Kili smiled, and said, "I rescued him from Mr. Smaug."

Bilbo was sure he did not imagine the anger rising in Thorin's eyes. Thorin tilted his head slightly, asking a silent question.

"Mr. Smaug did not wish to end our conversation," Bilbo said. "Kili came in at the right moment."

"And what did Mr. Smaug find so fascinating about your conversation?" Thorin asked.

"That is my business," Bilbo replied succinctly.

Thorin looked at him for several moments, and then said, "You are a friend of Gandalf's."

"Yes," Bilbo replied.

"Gandalf is a meddlesome troublemaker," Thorin said, and Bilbo felt sympathetic aggravation.

"That is a fact upon which we can both agree," Bilbo said.

Thorin stared at him, as if inspecting him, in a quite rude, yet electrifying manner if Bilbo were honest with himself. "Gandalf did not mention your profession," Thorin said, his eyes firm upon him.

"I'm an independent detective," Bilbo replied, feeling somewhat reluctant to reveal himself so soon. Kili's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Thorin's head canted to the side a little, and his slight smirk made Bilbo's heart race with both arousal and anger. "An amateur."

Bilbo frowned. "If you prefer. I am only an amateur because I choose not work for Scotland Yard."

Thorin's smirk deepened, and he said, "You look more a grocer than a detective."

Bilbo harrumphed at how pleased Thorin looked at his joke, but even as his own temper flared, he noted that the pleasure softened Thorin's ice-blue eyes.

"Yes, well, you should be thankful that appearances do not dictate our careers, or else you would still be crawling out of a cave with a wooden club in your hand."

Kili had been smiling pleasantly at his uncle's joke, but at Bilbo's response Kili nearly choked with shock and then started to giggle. Anger flared in Thorin's eyes, and his thin lips narrowed.

"I wonder how successful a detective you are if you cannot see beyond your narrow little world," Thorin replied.

Bilbo's jaw dropped, and he began to sputter angrily. Thorin turned to Kili, an obvious dismissal, and said, "I need your assistance."

"Of course," Kili replied. "See you later, Bilbo."

They left Bilbo to seethe.

 

Gandalf was reading in his room when he heard a thunderous knock. He sighed, and opened the door to his cabin. Thorin stormed into his room, and only just contained himself until Gandalf had closed the door.

"What are you playing at?" Thorin said, hands clenched at his sides.

"Playing at?" Gandalf said, carefully marking his place in the book before setting it down and turning to face Thorin. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Bilbo Baggins," Thorin replied, nearly spitting the name. "The _detective_. Why could you have possibly thought that bringing him here would be a good idea?"

"He needed a train to London," Gandalf said, his eyes full of innocence. His eyes narrowed slightly, becoming shrewd and knowing. "The plan as it stands is a dangerous one, and I thought you might need some assistance."

"Assistance? What assistance could a fussy little man offer me?" Thorin said, glaring at him.

"If you can fool Bilbo Baggins, one of the greatest detectives currently living, then you can fool the local police," Gandalf replied bluntly. He offered a silent apology to his friend for his insult, but ultimately he knew that the ends justified the means. "Bilbo Baggins is thorough and keen, but he has his weaknesses. You must be on your toes at all times, Thorin. If you can do this, then you and your family will be free."

Thorin looked less angry, and Gandalf could tell he was thinking hard about his words. "My grandfather trusted you, Gandalf," he eventually replied. "And so do I." For a moment Thorin no longer looked like the international businessman that he was, but the confused young man he had been, weighted down by death and the violent loss of his innocence. Gandalf's heart went out to him, and he rested a comforting hand on Thorin's shoulder. "This is too important," Thorin said, looking up at him.

"I know, my friend," Gandalf replied. "I will see justice done, even justice so long delayed. I will not abandon you and your family."

Thorin nodded, and Gandalf smiled, glad to see that Thorin's anger had calmed. Gandalf patted Thorin on the shoulder, and added, "And besides, you cannot tell me that you do not like Mr. Baggins."

Thorin looked up at him, the frustration obvious in his blue eyes. "That fussy little man? No, Gandalf, I do not like him at all. He seems out of place in this world."

Gandalf shrugged his shoulders, and said, "He has survived this long and in a dangerous profession. He has a great reserve of strength of which I don't think even he is aware."

Thorin's look was skeptical, but his voice was thoughtful as he said, "I still do not like him."

 

Ori was walking to his cabin, which he shared with Dori, which an arm reached out and pulled him into another cabin. He saw Balin step outside to give them privacy before Dwalin enveloped him in his arms and kissed him.

"Won't be much longer," Dwalin said.

"I hope so," Ori replied. "I hate being so close to him. He makes my skin crawl."

Dwalin nodded, and said, "You should have stayed at home. Your brothers should never have brought you."

Ori frowned, and said, "I am not afraid."

"I know you aren't, but I am," Dwalin replied, stroking a finger down his cheek. "I fear that he will remember you."

Ori shuddered, and held him closer. They parted when they heard a sharp knock on the door. With some quick maneuvering, Ori found himself out in the corridor just before Dori came out of their shared room.

"There you are, Ori. How you can disappear on this train, I don't know."

Ori did not know what to say, and so he said nothing. Dori took his arm, and with a mutter about tea time, led him to the dining car.

 

By the end of the evening, the families had broken up into various groups. Nori and Bifur were discussing their experiences in India, and Bilbo could still hear them chatting while he prepared for bed. Dwalin had been speaking with Dori, and Bilbo was curious as to how that was going, knowing what he knew about Dwalin and Ori's relationship. Thorin had shut himself away with Gandalf, taking Bilbo's conversational partner with him. Felix had been with Smaug when Bilbo had last seen him.

Bilbo did not know where his other passengers were, but he was glad to get away from the nerves he could sense in the air.

It was about midnight when Bilbo put away his book, and went to bed. He had just gone into a deep sleep when he heard a loud groan in the next compartment. He turned his reading lamp, noting that the train had stopped.

"Probably at the next station," Bilbo said to himself. He rose, wrapping his dressing gown around himself, and opened his door a crack. The conductor was speaking to someone in the next compartment.

"Ce n'est rien. Je me suis trompé."

"Bien, monsieur," the conductor said, and scurried away.

Bilbo shut his door, yawning. He could hear Smaug moving around as he had last night, the running water, the rustle of clothes, and the muffled steps of feet encased in slippers. Bilbo was just falling asleep when he heard someone ring his bell in a frantic, staccato rhythm. Bilbo sighed, unable to contain his curiosity, as he stood up and returned to his door. Through it he could hear Dori's insistent words and the conductor's apologetic responses. When Dori harrumphed and closed his door, Bilbo opened his own and looked out.

"Is everything all right?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes, sir," he replied, shaking his head. "Mr. Bergdís insisted that there was a man in his room, but how could that be so. I would have seen him come out of Mr. Bergdís' room and Mr. Smaug's room is locked from his side as well."

"Just a nightmare then," Bilbo suggested, although he could hardly imagine such a powerfully built and strong-willed man giving in to terrified dreams.

The conductor shrugged with his whole body in the manner that only the French could make look suave rather than twitchy. "Perhaps."

"Well, good night."

"Good night, monsieur."

Bilbo went back to bed, and as there were no more disturbances, he fell asleep.

 

Bilbo woke the next morning to a quiet train, and he wondered if it had not moved all since last night. When he arrived at breakfast, his fellow passengers were complaining with much enthusiasm. The familial barriers that had started to break down yesterday were nearly nonexistent due to this shared misery. Dori complained the loudest about how negligent the train company had been to allow their tracks to be covered with snow and how dangerous it was. Bilbo noticed, however, that the anxieties of yesterday had disappeared along with the barriers.

Bilbo ate his breakfast, wondering where his usual mealtime companions were. Smaug was also not in the dining car, but his secretary was present, talking to Bofur.

Bilbo's question was answered when Gandalf appeared at his side. "May I have a word with you?" he asked.

"Of course," Bilbo replied, glancing with longing at the remnants of his breakfast. He stood, and followed Gandalf, who led him into Elrond's cabin. Bilbo was surprised to see how pale and nervous Elrond was.

"Mr. Baggins," he said. "I need your assistance. One of the passengers has been murdered."

"Who?" Bilbo asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Mr. Smaug," Elrond replied. "You don't look surprised."

"The first night on the train, Smaug asked for my help. He said he was receiving threatening letters. Someone wanted to kill him, and he feared that this person had followed him onto this train."

"I would be surprised if only one person wished for his death," Elrond replied, a wry twist to his lips. "Did you accept?"

"Gracious me, no!" Bilbo replied, wringing his hands. "I felt him to be a distasteful man, and I wanted nothing to do with him"

"You were wise, my friend," Gandalf replied. "Smaug was always a vile beast."

"Nevertheless," Elrond said sternly. "He has been murdered on my train. Once the local police become involved, it may take us days to continue on."

"Days!" Bilbo exclaimed. "But I'm needed in London for a trial."

Gandalf said, "Perhaps it would be quicker for you if you were to solve this murder yourself."

Bilbo gave him a look of frustration and said, "Gandalf…"

"Hear me out. You are a world-renowned detective. I'm sure the local police will have heard of you. If you were to present them with a fate accompli, they would listen to you. They would accept your word and allow all of us to go on our way."

Bilbo knew that he could not refuse. "Very well," he replied, grumbling at Gandalf's pleased smile. "I need to see the body."


End file.
